No Way Out
by Clary Fray 1991
Summary: The world has been stripped of diseases by a treatment, but it has also taken away females' power to reproduce. When a fertile female is found, she is taken to Idris to give birth to as many kids as she can. Clary is like this, and the moment she finds out that she's fertile, she has to go to Idris and have kids with someone she doesn't know. Will Clary find a way out of this hell?
1. Chapter 1

Hello,** it's me with a new story! I had this idea for a book, but it is way too smutty for publishing. Like, Fifty Shades of Grey style, except more angst and none of the disgusting tying-up crap.**

**Basically, the story is Clace and Sizzy, although Sizzy is just a pairing shown, no actual alone time...if you know what I mean. (Furiously winks)**

**Summary in a sentence (or paragraph) : The world has been freed of in-body accumulating diseases by an injection given at birth...the only thing is, it's accidentally taken away the power of females to reproduce. (See where I'm going with this?) This means that very rarely a case pops up of a girl getting her period, and after that happens, the girl is taken away to a local center for fertility testing. If the test comes out positive, the girl has to leave her family willingly or unwillingly (but she has to go), and go to Idris, where there are various buildings where girls are set to reproduce with a certain, assigned person. Let's just say that they get kids out of you as fast as they can. **

**I know, I know, it's creepy, but if you like it, please leave a review and continue checking for an update.**

**Warning: Rated very, very M. Do not read if you aren't into smut. (I'm not into smut either, but still-I'm giving it a shot)**

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><p>I raise my hand high.<p>

My Science teacher calls on me. "Yes, Clary?"

"Could I go use the bathroom?" I ask. "Please?" I add, hoping to gain brownie points.

For some reason, I am feeling really uncomfortable in between my legs. Something seems wrong.

"Of course you can. Hurry back, though."

I sigh, and stand up, pushing my chair in. Then I dart out of the room as fast as my legs can take me.

When I'm inside one of the extremely shiny clean stalls, I shove the button of my jeans out of the way and pull my pants down. My heart rate quickens, and I nearly faint. There's blood everywhere. At least it's not leaking out, but still-my underwear looks like I spilled fruit punch all over it. Jesus. What do I do? This isn't supposed to happen. I've only read that, a few decades ago, this happened to teenagers and older women once a month.

But it doesn't happen now, because of the treatment.

The treatment rids the body of harmful bacteria and stops any disease or illness from growing in my body and passing onto someone else. Due to a small misprint in the chemical reading, though, it stops females from being able to naturally have kids. Since then, Idris, the ruling country of Earth, has founded hundreds of centers all over the world to find girls and women who can get preggers, and make the population of Earth increase. They say it's been working so far, but I don't believe in that crap. Nobody does. Fifty years ago, the world's population was more than seven billion. Now, it's come down to five billion, and the numbers are dwindling at a rapid pace. People are getting worried.

I hurriedly rip out a long wad of toilet paper and fold it up as thick as it can go. Once I've pulled my jeans up, I run to my locker and open it, my hands clammy and shaking. Did I put a jacket in there? I think. The lock isn't opening, though. My hands are trembling too much. The lock finally clicks open, and I rummage through the contents. There is a jacket in there. Whew.

I tie the jacket's sleeves around my waist, hoping it covers up my bottom. It does. I exhale in relief. What should I do now? My house is five minutes away from school. Mom never leaves the house because she's too busy doing something. She's never told me what she does, in the eighteen years that I've known her. So I'm contemplating on whether or not to ditch the rest of school and run home or wait until lunch and then go talk to her. The ditch the rest of school idea sounds better.

I look around to make sure nobody's here, secretly watching me. The coast is clear. Stealing a glance at the empty hallway one last time, I race towards the nearest exit. In around the next five seconds, I'm on the main street. A feeling of uneasiness has suddenly come over. I thinks something bad is going to happen today. Something even worse than what's just happened.

I'm out of breath by the time I've reached the front door of my house. I ring the doorbell once. Twice. Another time. I pray that Mom is home.

The door swings open just as my hand reaches out to pound the bell once more. My mother has a look of irritation on her face, and her red hair is falling out of it's bun.

"Clary? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the school day!" She yells.

I sputter. "I-there's something wrong with me. I'm bleeding."

The annoyed expression fades away, and a look of concern takes its place. "Did you get cut, darling? And why are you so flustered?"

"No, I didn't get cut," I snap, pushing past her and walking into the house. "I'm bleeding, like, that menstrual thing that used to happen to women. Help me. What's wrong with me?"

Mom's eyes widen, and she slams the door shut. She pulls me upstairs and into her closet, closing and locking the door.

"Clary," She says to me.

"What?"

"You didn't tell anyone about this, right?" She questions.

"It happened five minutes ago. I doubt I'd have time to talk about it. The second I saw it, I ran here." I answer truthfully.

My mother puts her head in her hands. "No, no, no. This is bad. I knew I should have gotten the treatment done on you. It's my fault. Christ."

Now, this side of her, it is freaking me out like crazy. She's never been so tensed. "You mean-you mean that nobody ever gave me a hit of the treatment? Why?"

"Because I was too busy hiding."

I stare at her, dumb-founded. "Hiding from who? You're being _so _descriptive right now."

"Hiding from the goverment!" Mom practically screams in my ear. "When I was sixteen, I found out that the treatment wouldn't work on me, so they caught me and took me to that horrid place. I tried to escape so many times, I lost count. Then I met your father. He was the one assigned to me, and I fell in love with him the second I saw him. Eight months later? We were expecting our child anytime. I gave birth, and my baby-my poor, dear Jonathan...they ripped him away from me." Her voice catches, and tears well in her eyes.

"After Jonathan was stolen from me, I fell pregnant again, this time with you. Your father-Valentine was his name-he swore that he wouldn't let you go like he did with Jonathan. One night, a week before I went into labor, he came into my room and told me that now was the chance to escape. I took the chance for you, and I succeeded in leaving. Valentine promised that he'd meet me at the border, but he never did. Instead, Luke arrived, and he snuck me into a private flight, and...here I am now."

I clear my throat, unable to comprehend what she's said. A brother I didn't know I had? And a mother who, until now, I'd believed was my adopted mother? This is too much to take in all at once. "So, why are you telling me all this right now?" I ask.

"Because, if you let anyone know about what's just happened, even Sebastian or Luke, they'll call one of the fertility centers, and the same thing that happened to me will happen to _you_, except for the fact that you won't escape like I did. Their protection and security is stronger than it ever was, Clary, and once you go in, there isn't any going out, at least until you die, or you're unable to produce any more kids. They'll mostly kill you then." Mom explains. "I don't want you to waste your life going through that hell. It's a _prison. _Think of it as a life sentence. They'll get kids out of you every nine months, and the process keeps going on and on, until you just can't take it anymore. So, please, don't mention this at _all_. This conversation never happened. As for the blood...I'll give you something for that. Come with me."

Mom takes quick steps towards the door, and unlocks it. What we see as she opens the door is enough to make me know it's all over.

Sebastian has a phone in his hand, his raven black eyes piercing through us in a way they never have before. In the other hand, he holds a pamphlet that says, _Contact us if your wife, sister, daughter, or any other family member shows signs of being able to reproduce such as menstruation, cramps, etc. _

Mom screams, her voice going through all the octaves at once. The scream is horrified and shocked. Sebastian whirls and runs out of Mom's room, going into his own. I'm taking deep, labored breaths, thinking to myself that this is a twisted dream I'll wake up from any minute now, but I know this isn't any old dream. It's really happening.

My mother pounds on Sebastian's door. "Sebastian! Don't dial the number, please! She's your sister! _You can't do this to her!_" She roars. I've never seen her emotions so mixed up. She's angry, desperate, sad, and shocked, all at the same time.

I can hear Sebastian speaking in a low voice inside. No. _No. _This isn't possible. It wasn't supposed to happen. I back up, feeling betrayed, and my head hits the wall forcefully. I collapse and black out, not believing that he's actually calling the number.

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><p>"Clary?" Someone says. I mumble something that even I don't understand.<p>

My eyes slowly peel open, and I take in my surroundings. I'm in my room. Sebastian and Luke are crouched over me, looking at me with worry.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Luke asks.

I cough. "Yeah, I think." I reply. I hear the sound of muffled sobbing somewhere in a corner, and it all comes back to me. That's my mother crying, and it seems that Sebastian told the authorities about everything. He should have been at school. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping outside the closet. Slowly, I sit up, and my stomach twists in fear.

Two men in white coats are standing expectantly at the entrance of my room.

My jaw drops. I'm suddenly so, very terrified. I whimper, staring at the two men. "W-who are they? What are they doing here?" I demand, even though I already know the answer. They're here for me.

Luke is frowning. "Clary, you have to go." He says sadly.

"No," I whisper. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sebastian pats my shoulder. "Clary, it's better if you go with them willingly. Come on, maybe the test might even come out negative. Go." He reassures me.

My chin trembles. "No, I can't. Please." I beg.

The men gesture for Luke and Sebastian to move. They do, and the men are approaching me like I'm a wounded lion who'll pounce on them any second.

"No!" I cry. "Mommy! Please!"

I've been lifted off the bed, and am now being literally dragged across the floor. I can't hold the tears back. I just can't.

"At least let me say bye to her." I mumble.

I beg Luke with my eyes. He nods, and then I'm released. I run into Mom's arms as fast as I can. Everyone else is slowly shuffling out of the room.

Mom is sobbing, just like I am. Her nose is puffy, and overall she looks a mess, probably even worse than I do.

"I'm sorry, baby," She cries.

I sit down on my bed with her arm around my shoulder. "It's not your f-fault," I tell her. "Look, maybe what Sebastian says is right. Maybe the test _will_ come out negative, and this'll all be over."

Mom shakes her head. "That's not how it works, Clary. The test is never wrong. And I believe what you told me about the blood, because you never lie. God, I'm so, so sorry. You hate me, don't you? But don't worry-I'll get you out of there if I die doing it."

"You're the one who said there's security everywhere. How will you get me out, then?"

"After I escaped, I found out that there was a group of women who'd escaped just like I had, and they had their own daughter or son. Ever since I met them, we've been planning a big escape for all the girls in there. My closest friend-Maryse, she had a son the same age your brother would have been, who became government property like Jonathan, and a daughter as old as you. Isabelle, Maryse's daughter, had to go to Idris a few weeks ago. Maryse is furious, and we're not letting go of this incident anytime soon. Usually, we meet every six months for a week at a time-you know how I always say I go on _hikes _alone? Instead, we check in at a secure place and have our meetings. We had a meeting last month, even though we aren't scheduled to have one until December. The meeting was because Maryse wasn't dealing well with Isabelle having to leave. Now that they're taking you, too, I'm calling for an emergency meeting. As I said, I'll get you out, no matter what." Mom takes a deep breath. We've both stopped crying, but we know that after I go, we're going to be starting again. "Stay safe, darling, okay?" She wipes my face tenderly, and I hug her one last time.

I clear my throat. "I will." Saying this, I shut my eyes tightly and stiffly walk out of the room before I burst into tears again. Luke and Sebastian are waiting for me outside. I don't pay any attention to them, instead just opening the front door. Someone catches my hand before I can exit, though. It's Sebastian.

"Aren't you going to at least say bye?" He asks.

I glare at him. "I hate you. _I hate you so much. _I regret calling you a brother. My real brother wouldn't have done this to me. I hope there's a special place reserved for you in Hell when you die." I hiss at him. The venom in my voice surprises both of us, and Sebastian is taken back. I stomp out of the house, stealing a final glance towards the place I grew up in. Except for the fact that my mother is probably crying her eyes out inside, I feel nothing about this house. I am numb.

As I open the door to the shiny black van with tinted windows, I see that Mom has come outside. The look in her eyes says, _I will get you back. Don't worry._

I nod at her and get into the car. It isn't until we're out of the neighborhood that I realize I'm all alone in this.

All I can bring myself to do I bury my face in my hands and hope for the best.

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><p><strong>Subtle, huh? I have a feeling that I'm going way too fast, but I need you smut-anticipaters to get your smut as soon as I can get it to you. It will start by the third or fourth chapter.<strong>

**How did you like it? I woke up, got ready and ate breakfast, and wrote down the second half of this chapter. Please review if you like it. :) Or favorite. Or follow. That's if you feel like it, though.**

**Have a great day or night and stay tuned!**


	2. Chapter 2

**You must be wondering how I have such a long update up in so little time. To be honest, I am already attached this story. Man, I am blown away by responses I've received! Thank you everyone who took their time to review, favorite, or follow. I also found a beta! So, my writing will get better. For those of you who are interested in reading The Vampire Diaries fanfiction, please go to my other page, Elena Gilbert 1992, and check my stories out. The quality is sorta bad, but still, I have two amazing betas for that page who have helped me improve a lot. **

**The first few minutes after I'd posted the first chapter, I was kind of pissed at myself for not thinking a little (you know, whether I should post or not) but now I'll continue to the end.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

"Miss Fray?" Someone shakes my shoulder.

I groan and open my eyes. Wait, did I actually fall asleep? Crap. "Yes?" I ask.

"We're here."

For a second my heart jumps, and I think, when did they ever do the fertility test on me? How am I already in Idris? But I realize that, no, they haven't tested me yet, and there's still a chance that I can't have children. I look up at who's speaking to me. It's one of the men in the white coats that came to pick me up. **(****AN: That sounds dirty.)**

I rub my eyes. "Oh." I say. The man holds out a hand, and I hesitantly take it and step out of the car. I'm in front of a big white building that says Brooklyn Fertility Center on the sign. I'm freaked out already. Not that I ever wasn't.

As I enter the building, I'm surrounded by a bustle of nurses, all dressed in milk-white uniforms. What is it with these people and the color white? There's that familiar hospital stench going around everywhere. Damn, I hate hospitals. And nurses. And anyone who has studied Biology.

"Miss Fray, will you come with us, please?" One of the nurses, a pretty young woman with blond hair says. I nod slightly, and follow her into a corridor. Everything here is white, as if it's parched of color. It mirrors what I feel.

The nurse seems excited. Maybe these guys don't get much work to do around here. I shrug to myself as the woman opens a door and gestures for me to go inside.

I swear to fucking God, if I see any more of the color white, I'm going to stab someone and use their blood to paint the walls.

I sit down on the one chair in the room that thankfully, is blue.

"Now," The nurse says, "I'm going to inject you with this." She holds up a long needle with equally as much clear liquid inside it. There are butterflies in my stomach, more like angry wasps. Needles scare me all the time. It's been happening since I was little.

There's a sharp pinprick in my neck, and I wince. When I blink and open my eyes again, everything is shiny around the edges. A stray curl falls over my face. It's nice and soft, and fuzzy. The last thing I hear is a beeping sound that reminds me of when people cuss and their words are covered up with those beeps, and then everything goes dark.

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><p>Ugh. My head is hurting so hard. Every pulse of my heart feels like a hammer hitting my skull.<p>

I had this really bad dream about the color white, but I couldn't wake up. Something was keeping me asleep. I should tell Mom about that.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" A female voice questions. I open my eyes and look around. Oh, right. I'm being tested...or I've been tested.

The pretty blond nurse smiles sweetly. "We have good news, Miss Fray. You're one of the rare ones who can actually have kids."

I knew it. My mother was right about the test. It's never wrong. _Fuck. _How am I going to get out of this situation? My nails dig into the upholstery of the blue chair, making a tearing sound. I grit my teeth.

"Does that mean that I have to go to-"

Blondie cuts me off. "Idris? Yes. It's a wonderful place, dear. I know you'll love it there."

I blink tears back, and the nurse hands me a tissue. I blow my nose, and then somehow, I burst into tears and start full-blown sobbing. I'm never going to see Mom again. How did everything change so quickly?

"I hate you!" I scream, so hard that Blondie backs off and hits the wall.

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'tears of joy', Miss Fray."

"Tears of joy? Tears of fucking _joy_?!" I yell. "No way in fucking hell! My mother told me it's a prison. It's a fucking prison!" I screech. I've never raised my voice so high. It sounds wrong and my brain is telling me to stop.

Pretty soon, I've used up the entire box of tissues, and when I look inside the box for another one, I find that there are none left. I scream and chuck the empty box of crap at the wall.

"Ma'am, do I have to call security in?" Blondie asks me. I'm so fucking done with her sweet little voice and the way she says _ma'am_, making it sound more like I'm a patient at a mental hospital rather than a random teen.

I sniffle. "No," I reply. "You can shut the fuck up, though." I retort.

She opens her mouth as if she wants to tell me something, but closes it just as quickly. Thank the lord. I think I've calmed myself down now. I'm cried out and exhausted. I could use some sleep. Too bad I can't curl up in my own bed tonight. My attention goes to the bland wall clock. It reads as 7:30. When I ran home from school, it was sometime around one o'clock. I've been on such a big adventure.

The thought keeps running through my head. _I'm never seeing my mom again. I'm never seeing my mom again. _It's taunting me, daring me to start crying again.

The door swings open, and a tall, thin man in a suit stands in the doorway. "Miss Fray's ride is here." He simply states, nodding towards the blond nurse and for a second my hopes go high. I think to myself that they're taking me home.

But the car ride lasts for more than an hour, and finally, I see that I'm at JFK (the airport). The car stops, and I take a deep breath. Here's to my imminent death.

I inwardly laugh at myself. If what Mom said is true (and why would she lie to me?), then going to Idris _is _equal to death. I find myself hoping for the worst. When did I become such a pessimist?

As I get out of the car, I see mysterious suit-guy pulling out bags from the trunk. They all belong to me, and I wonder-did my mom pack these for me? I bit my bottom lip. Hard.

The man practically races me through security, and by the time we're waiting for the private jet reserved for me, I'm tired and hungry. I ask the man for food, and in less than a minute, there's a Big Mac and a Coke in front of me. I snarf it down, and then drink up all of the Coke. I don't even take my time to taste the food, but who cares, right? It's better not to remember my last fast food meal and then getting all depressed over it.

I'm really surprised that the government would take their time in reserving a private jet for me. It isn't like I'm going to enjoy this ride though.

The events of the day zoom past my eyes, and I am suddenly fighting back tears once again. I've cried so much today, I'm shocked that my tear glands are still working.

The flight is announced. As I stall my way walking across the shiny floors of the airport, desperately looking around for a way to escape, I shoot glares at people who stare at me. I already know I'm a mess. There's no need to whisper about it behind my back.

A few tears stream down my face as I buckle up in the plush seat.

There's no stopping them now.

My life is officially over.

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><p><strong>I'm done. I finished this in around and hour and a half, and I hope you like it. Thank you to okayitswayland for betaing this for me. Please review and stay tuned!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Me again! There's just one thing I can say-**

**OMFG!**

**You guys are so awesome! So many views and reviews! Lots of you are anticipating smut, so here we go. (You'll have to wait till like the end of the chapter, though. Sorry.)**

**Clace... **

**Rated so, very M. Like, underline it a million times.**

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><p>"Michael, I love you so much! Don't go," The beautiful actress says to Arms. He sighs and pulls her in for a hug, and then they start making out, and then they practically throw themselves onto the bed. A wave of nausea runs through me, and I shudder and go back to the main menu. This movie is awfully starting to remind me what's going to happen...in a short while. The thought just makes me sick.<p>

Back in Brooklyn, it's three in the morning, and here I am, sitting on a private jet and passing my time in ways that are unfamiliar to me, just so I won't cry. The flight is scheduled to land in Idris in another three and a half hours. When I get to the facility, it'll be a little after noon.

A few hours ago, right after the jet took off, I asked for a bottle of alcohol. Every flight attendant refused, but finally, I snuck a small bottle of vodka underneath my shirt and drank it, mixed in with my Sprite. It cleared my thoughts out for a while.

The stupid-ass phone I found wouldn't work. I've heard that there aren't any phones in Idris, and although there's internet, all sites through which I can contact someone are disabled. That idea is so fucking stupid I could bang my head on a wall for hours at the stupidity. If I'm going with them and making babies, why the fuck can't I talk to my mom? What am I supposed to do when I get there? Sit and complain about how boring it is?

A twisted thought shakes me. Who's being assigned to me? Do they let us choose, or is it just like a lottery system? Oh, I picked out the name of the hottest guy in the world for you, dear. Sorry, honey, but the guy assigned to you is a thirty year-old perv. Good luck!

I unbuckle my seatbelt and trudge to the bathroom. I haven't been in there even _once_. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I curse myself for finding all my flaws. My hair is tangled. My eyes are blood-shot, and match the color of my puffy nose. There are very clearly visible tear tracks on my cheeks. I'm nowhere near perfect. Turning the faucet on, I run a hand through my red curls to make them look neater than they are right now. I splash some water on my face to reduce the tearful look of my face. It works just fine.

When I exit the bathroom, all the windows in the fancy plane have been opened, and sunlight shines in. I groan and shut all of the windows, slamming them as hard as I can. It isn't until then that I feel myself getting angry at myself for not trying to run when I had the chance, angry at Sebastian for making the phone call, angry at Luke for not protecting me from this clusterfuck.

The bottle of vodka is still under a pile of magazines on the floor, and I pick it up and throw it at the big television screen, screaming so hard I swear my eardrums just shattered. The bottle and the TV both emit a tremendous crack and I inwardly smile at the broken television screen, at the bottle of vodka that's shattered, just like my heart.

Thankfully, I'm already back in my seat when the man in the suit arrives. I stay silent and watch him glare at me as he calls on a flight attendant to pick up the mess. I hope that that fucker gets cut.

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><p><em>Idris: 12:17 p.m.<em>

This is what the clock shows. The flight is landing, and along with the pain in my ears from the popping, my heart is racing and I feel like my airways are constricted. I take deep breaths to calm myself down, but I can't help it. I'm hyperventilating.

The jet is coming to a stop, and I can see greenery all around. What's a bit more striking is the humongous white tower coming out of a bunch of trees. As I look closer, I see that there are two more, and that seems to be it. I honestly hope that the room I am to live in isn't starch white like this. If it is, then this time, I seriously will take the blood-painting idea and make it a reality. Some color is better than none, isn't it?

I'm directly escorted to a car instead of being sent through customs and all that crap. The car is sleek, and has tinted black windows, matching the color of the body itself. As I open the door to the back seat, my hands are trembling. I can't do this. I can't, not even after I've come all this way. Why can't this just be a dream? I want to go back home.

The car ride is surprisingly short, and my eyes are burning with freshly formed tears the entire time. The road comes to an end as we approach one of the white buildings I saw before. My heart thumps at an irregular pace. I enter the building, and the man who's been escorting me everywhere vanishes into thin air. Suddenly, I'm flanked by two buff guards who look like they lift all day instead of doing their job. I gulp, and look around desperately for a way to run. There isn't a chance, though. I should have run while I was still in Brooklyn.

Everything seems oddly silent around here. The time seems to go by slower, and because of the white color everywhere, I feel like I'm in a black and white movie, being the only person in color.

There are four flights of stairs I have to walk up before I'm gasping for air. Then I'm taken into an elevator. One of the guards presses the 80 button. My eyes widen. There are around a hundred and fifty floors to this building. I think that commiting suicide here would be a good idea. I'm nowhere near attempting suicide, though. I believing in what my mother says. When there's a chance, she'll come save me.

After the extremely boring ride to the eightieth floor ends, I'm ushered down a long hallway, and somewhere in the middle, one of the guards unlocks the door to a room and gently pushes me in, closing and locking the door from the outside. My jaw drops. This room looks exactly like the one at home. Did they replicate it, or-or did they bring all of my things and arrange them exactly the way I left them? The second option seems to be the one. I can tell I'm right. The covers on the bed smell like home, and so does the expensive violin case of mine. I open the door closest to me, not the one I just came in through, and I find that all of my clothes are the way I align them on their hangers. Every. Single. Piece. How did they do it? There's another door directly across from the closet. I leap in, expecting my bathroom to be there. Oh, my fucking god. This is just creepy.

There's one thing, though, that catches my attention, because it isn't the same as my room. A door diagonal from the bed. I slowly creep towards it, testing to see if it's unlocked. It is, so I swing it open. There's a room identical to mine, just arranged completely different. There are black satin sheets on the bed, a tall lamp which looks mighty expensive, and a dresser with a large mirror, spotlight included, on the other side of the room. There's loud singing coming from what I think is the bathroom. I quickly close the door and get back into the room that is now mine, deciding to explore later.

I reopen the closet and hastily pick out something to wear. I settle for my starry pajama pants and a blue T-shirt. Once I'm done picking all of privates out as well, I hurry into the bathroom. There's a box sitting on the counter. It contains these plastic wrapped pad-thingies that remind me of baby diapers. I hold a packed one as far away from me as possible.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to wear these during my period. Damn, just looking a them is lowering my self-esteem. I'm an eighteen year-old girl. I don't wear diapers. Apparently, everyone here does, or so it says on the box.

I turn the hot water on in the shower room and jump in. It feels nice. I can see myself in the foggy glass. The whole setting reminds me of my house.

This place is nowhere close to how wonderful my house is, though.

I feel myself getting a step closer to crying every extra minute I spend showering, so I turn the water off once I'm clean and get to the whole how to use a pad thingy. It's not too hard, and I get the hang of it after discarding a few of my first tries. Then, I hurry up and throw my clothes on so I can go do homework...except for the fact that my homework is in my backpack, in my locker at school. And I'm more than a thousand miles away from there.

I shake the thought off and open up my violin case. The violin smells fresh of the renewal I had done on it a week or so ago. I pick it up and breathe in the scent, clutching it as close to me as possible, even though I'm getting rosin all over my shirt. The body of the instrument is sleek and cool to the touch. It makes me drift off into my own reality for a second.

I don't realize how long I've been sitting there until I hear the door swing open. It's not the one that leads into another room, though. It's the door I came in through. I'm just going to start calling it the front door.

"Hi," A low voice says. I jump. Who in the fuck is here? "Can I come in?"

I grimace. "Hi. Um, okay." I answer calmly.

My jaw drops yet again.

There's a really tall, really hot guy standing in the doorway. He has perfectly tanned skin that glows, and his eyes match the mesmerizing shade. His hair is a light blonde, and it looks good with the rest of him.

My attention wanders from the guy to the very open, very escapable door. I gently set my violin down and try to make my way around the guy, but he blocks my way and looks at me with a warning expression.

"Don't," He laughs nervously, "Even think about it." I scoff and take a few steps back to let him come forward.

"I'm Jace," He says. "You must be Clarissa."

It's my turn to belt out a nervous laugh. "Yes, I-I am. Call me Clary." What is he doing here?

I just stand there and stare at him for a minute before he closes and locks the door up. He does the same with the door leading to the other room.

"So?" He snaps his fingers in my face. "Let's get to it."

Confused, I raise an eyebrow at him. "Get to what?"

He looks at me like I'm retarded. "The sex, of course. Unless you'd like to think of it as 'making sweet love'."

I lean away from him. "I-I don't know you." I'm very sure that my face looks like that of a scared kitten.

"Well, you don't have to know me to let me fuck you. That's the reason you came here. To get pregnant. Have kids. Live a life and then die."

"You're a-assigned to me?" I squeak. _No. NO. I'm not giving my virginity to a boy I just said hi to._

At this point, I'm trembling, and it feels like someone is pouring ice down my back in the middle of a cold winter day.

He smirks, as if this is all a joke. "Of course I am. Why would I come in here otherwise?" He replies modestly.

I sputter, but clear my throat and gulp. "Can't we-um, wait until we know each other?" I ask him softly.

The smirk fades. "Clary, you came here, when, a few hours ago? They told me you arrived at 1:30 p.m. It's nine o'clock at night right now. I have to get started with you as soon as I can." He's dead serious.

My eyes anxiously flicker to the wall clock. It indeed says nine p.m. But I can't do this. Not now. I have to fight.

"No," I tell Jace firmly. "I'm don't have anything to do with you. I'm not going to let you lay a finger on me." My voice wavers a little, though.

Jace takes a few steps toward me cautiously. "Come on. There's no reason to be scared." His voice is an attempt towards being soothing, but it's not working on me.

"I'm not _scared_," I growl at him, but I'm about to break. The tears will come any second now.

Before I know it, Jace has pulled his shirt off, and it's lying on the floor. He reaches for mine, but I tear away from him harshly.

"No," I whisper, "Just stop. Please, I don't want to."

Irritated, Jace sighs. "Did I tell you that you have a choice? No, right? Then get your fucking clothes off and kiss me, or I'll do it myself." He snarls. I'm terrified, but I still muster up the courage to shove Jace's outstretched arms away when he tries to pull the hem of my T-shirt up.

"_Please_," I beg. My eyes are filling up with tears. Jace takes no notice of them, instead swiftly ripping off my shirt, revealing a plain black bra.

Jace slowly pushes me down onto the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he inches his jeans and boxers down as well and tugs at the waistband of my pajama pants. I let out a strangled wail. He clenches his teeth and finally gets the last piece of clothing off of me before starting to kiss my neck.

The moment that he pushes into me, I scream, so loud that it resonates off the walls and I hear it again. I finally burst into tears. It hurts so much. It feels like my insides are being ripped apart. I take deep breaths to keep myself from retching, even though my stomach twists agonizingly.

It doesn't seem that Jace cares that he's hurting me. I slump onto the bed as his thrusts grow harder and harder. Every sob that escapes me sounds distant, like I'm hearing a poorly made recording of my own voice.

It seems to be a lifetime before Jace finally comes inside me. Why isn't he wearing protection? Oh, Jesus, I might get pregnant.

I bury my face into the soft covers and cry my heart out. I don't even realize that Jace has helped me get my clothes on until he says, "Calm down."

Hearing his voice makes me snivel harder.

"Clary..." He trails off. "It was just this one time. Don't make such a big deal out of it."

I become furious, but don't utter a word. I feel too broken to be angry right now.

My head is lifted onto a soft, cushy material. A pillow. Then, I'm engulfed in an abundance of blankets that smell like home. My crying has grown softer, but it's still going on. Jace unlocks the door to the other bedroom and pounds on it. Someone opens it, and I hear a loud girl's voice.

"Shut her up before I come back in the morning." Jace orders.

The voice mutters an angry string of cuss words involving Jace's dick. The word brings back what just happened, and I begin muffling my new sobs into the pillow.

The last thing I see before I pass out is a girl with long, black hair, dashing to me with pure worry in her eyes.

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><p><strong>So, how was it? Too fast? Just okay? I'm sorry if it's too angsty for you. This entire story is angsty. Warning for you.<strong>

**Longest chapter ever!**

**I know, I know, Jace is a fucking bastard with no emotions. But he'll warm up to Clary soon. She'll hate him for a long time.**

**Who do you think the girl with the black hair is? (Hint, hint: The name is in the first chapter-go back and check if you don't remember!)**

**Please review. I can't believe that a few hours ago, I had only seventeen reviews, but in the last four or five hours, I reached twenty-three. That's my personal high. :) Thanks for helping me reach it!**

**Stay tuned!**

**Bye!**

**-Aishwarya**


	4. Chapter 4

**HEY-LO.**

**I feel so happy, but I feel so sad that I lost my chance to talk to him AGAIN. I am honestly so stupid when it comes to cute guys...like this. Also...Susan, dear, if you're reading this, then yes, I did lose my chance for the MILLIONTH freaking time, and yes, I feel like a total freaking idiot for it. **

**Help me, Jebus! (I say that a lot, even though I'm supposed to be Hindu. Well, fuck the world, because agnostic theism is the bomb!)**

**So, um, like, that guy I've wanted to talk to ever since he was in front of me in the line to get schedules, I've, like, heard that he's really shy. (Bring it on!)**

**Now, a lot of you hate Jace. I can understand. I hate him, too. He should have been gentler on Clary. (And by ON Clary, I mean ON CLARY.) It will get better, though. Very soon, but not very soon.**

**ASDFGHJKL.**

**I found The Iron Trial at the library and checked it out!**

**To Riley207: Haha, I want to castrate that sonofabitch, too.**

**To SelfDestructIn54321: Of course I like cheese! It's so much fun to eat! And yes, my name really is Aishwarya. Thank you for telling me it sounds cool.**

**To lauren . vaughan : Thanks for following this story up until now. I hope you don't abandon me. XD**

**Here's your chapter.**

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><p>I hear a faint ticking sound coming from somewhere far away, and I can just barely catch it.<p>

Every part of me below the waist _hurts_. It's not just sore, I can tell there are bruises on my legs. When I move even a little bit, it feels like someone is ripping me from the inside out.

That's what wakes me up.

I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night. The pillow under my head is damp with tears. I feel stolen.

And that was exactly what happened last night, wasn't it?

Where is that fucker right now? I hope he doesn't come back. If he does, I'll whack him over the head with one of my books. I'll do it until he's bleeding and begging me to stop.

Just like I did.

The ticking sound comes from the wall clock, and it's seems slow. Slower than usual. Maybe that's what happens when you come here. Time gets slower, and it feels like a million lifetimes before you die.

I sit up with a wince. I wish I had pain meds. Just as I'm about to get off the bed, the door that leads into the other bedroom opens with a creak. A girl with long, black hair is standing in the doorway. She's the girl I saw last night before I blacked out. Her eyes are a dark shade of brown, her pale skin suiting them perfectly. She reminds me of a Barbie doll, just a bit Goth.

"Hi," She says. "How are you feeling?" The look on her face expresses genuine concern.

I shift and ruffle my hair. "I'm...okay." My voice sounds surprisingly raspy.

"I'm sorry, but they don't have painkillers here." Painkillers are only read about in books these days.

"Yeah, I know." I answer briefly. My vision clouds with tears. "It hurt _so _much." My voice wavers.

Just as the girl comes closer to hug me, I burst into tears. I expect huge, agonizing sobs to come, but only silent tears run down my face. I squeeze my lips together to try and stop myself. It doesn't work at all.

"Come on," She whispers, rubbing my back. "It happened to me, too. It happens to everyone here."

"I, I never wanted to come here," I cry. "He just, he just raped me, and, and after only a few hours after I'd arrived!"

The girl opens her mouth slowly. "Well, I fought when the guy assigned to me did it. I even threw a lamp at him, but when I started to cry, he told me to calm down and went as gentle as possible. I'm pregnant now." She says sadly, pointing to her stomach. She isn't showing yet.

"You'll get pregnant, too. Just wait a month, and then you won't even have to deal with Jace anymore. You can just tell him to leave you alone."

Knowing that I'll have a baby inside me soon makes the tears streaming down my face come faster. "I hate him. He wasn't even nice about it. He just shoved so, so hard, and he wouldn't stop kissing my neck and, and touching me. It was disgusting; I was even about to throw up, but I figured that would make him angrier, so I held it back."

Just then, the door, having been idle for so long, swings open so fast that I can't see it move. Jace is outside, with a plate covered in foil in his hands. It is steaming, and I wonder how his hands aren't burning.

Unlike last time, Jace comes in without asking, and slams the door shut.

"Why is she crying?" He snaps at the girl. I take it as an insult to me and cringe away, suddenly afraid again.

"Because you raped her and weren't even nice about it, you son of a bitch!"

"And also," He glares at her, "What the hell are _you _doing in here, Isabelle?" So her name is Isabelle. How does he know her name? Is he assigned to her, too?

"There's a door that connects the fucking rooms, and you were the one who told me to fucking calm her down yesterday, so don't give me that shit!" She yells.

Jace huffs like a little girl, and swiftly points at the door. "Get out."

Isabelle gives him a smug smile. "Well, if you say so. Is there a chauffeur waiting to take me to the airport?" She asks.

"I meant get back to your own fucking room, dumbass!" Jace replies, aggravated.

Isabelle sticks her tongue out at him like a child, and gives me an apologetic grimace, stomping back to her own door. I try to catch her eye and tell her through looks, "_Don't leave me with him._"

"I'm telling Simon that you called me a dumbass." She mutters before making a dramatic exit.

I look down, too scared to make eye contact with Jace because I don't want to see his reaction.

"Wipe your eyes, Clary," He orders.

I feebly do as he says, but there are still tears coming.

"Clary, do I need to come over there?" Jace asks.

My chin trembles. "No, just, just don't." I wipe my eyes and will myself to stop crying. I still haven't looked Jace in the eye.

"Could you please look at me when I'm talking to you?" He questions. Somehow, he's silently made his way across the room with the plate, and I can smell the food. I also see his feet about a yard away from me. He's wearing black leather shoes that must be expensive.

I slowly pull my head up until my eyes are level with Jace's. His eyes are burning, a tawny, gold mixture speckled with dark copper flecks.

He gives me a slight smile. "Thank you." He catches me looking at the plate of food. "Oh, right. I came to give you this." He holds out the plate to me, and I take it reluctantly. Jace sits down on the bed a few inches away from me. I scoot away from him uncomfortably.

I start carefully unwrapping the silver, glinting foil from the plate. Laid out for me neatly is an all white omelet with gooey, melted cheese inside. Under the plate, there's a fork and a knife precariously stuck there with tape. I rip them off and begin eating the omelet in small bites.

The taste of the omelet reminds me of the ones Mom makes every Sunday morning. I wonder if they got her recipe and used it to make this. I involuntarily let out a soft moan, and Jace chuckles lightly.

I only realize that I've finished eating when Jace's hand touches my shoulder. I shrink away from it, and he sighs.

"Stop it, Clary," He tells me quietly.

"Stop what?" I ask.

"Don't move away from me when I sit next to you, or cringe when I'm simply trying to get your attention by shaking you. I'm not letting you spend the rest of your life afraid of what I'll do to you."

Before I can do anything, I burst into tears. Why, of all people, is he the one saying this to me? I have every right to be afraid of him. Every single goddamn right.

Jace tightens his jaw, and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "Stop crying. Now. I'm making an attempt to be nice here, Clarissa."

"Well, you weren't exactly befriending me by throwing me onto the bed and fucking me like I'm some whore, were you? Because even if you'd been gentle, raping me a few moments after we met was not a way to kick it off." I retort through my tears.

Jace explodes in my face. **(AN: Haha, that rhymes.) **"Why can't you understand? It's my job! I was born here, and even though most of the kids that are born here get shipped to adoptive families, I wasn't! I've spent nineteen years of my life knowing that my mother was in this very building, reproducing with some creep not even worth enough to be called my father!" He shouts.

I stand, abandoning the plate. "Well, maybe that's what your future children will be saying when they're stuck here raping some poor girl! Maybe you'll even get to meet them every day, while I'll have to live the next five or more decades in this hellhole of a room! I'll always be the one who has to look around at this room and be reminded of home every single second! I'll always be government property, and so will you, from the looks of it, but here's the thing you'll get to interact with actual people who you can befriend and hang out with at the mall or some shit. I'm not even twenty yet! My life changed with a single phone call! I had a school, friends, family, but now I don't. I never will. Never..." My anger melts as I drop painfully to my knees and curl up against the bedpost, sobbing into my hands.

When I look up at Jace to tell him to get out, he's staring at me thoughtfully, sitting against the wall with a position mirroring mine. My mouth isn't opening. I just calmly look at him for the duration of the next hour or so.

His eyes don't leave mine, not even when blaring music goes off in my neighbor's room. They bore into me, demanding to know my deepest secrets. Truth is, I don't have any.

"You do know that you physically hurt me, right?"

His eyes widen a notch further than they already are. He seems shocked. "I did?" He genuinely asks me.

"Of course you did. Did you not see me cry?" I harshly hiss.

Jace is taken aback. "I thought that it was just for the sake of it." He raises his eyebrows, and drops them into place once again. It looks oddly interesting.

"You're so stupid. Why would I be crying just for the sake of it? Was there anyone else that was naked on top of me? I was _begging _you to stop without words, because I'd realized that words don't have effect on you."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry." He apologizes.

I laugh without a trace of humor in my voice. He's...saying sorry. "That won't work." I giggle. It comes out excessively high, unlike myself. "It just won't ever work, because you've already gone too far!" My laughing grows until I'm practically roaring with it, but it isn't until Jace stands up and whispers soothing words into my ear that I find that I'm actually roaring with loud sobs. Wow...I've cried so much these last few days. When will I ever stop?

"Hey. Hey," Jace smooth's a hand over my hair gently. "Shh. Come here." He pulls me up and walks me to my bathroom. I shake my head and pull away from him because I think he's taking me there to rape me again.

"No, I don't want to go there." I push at his chest. he doesn't budge. Instead, he holds my chin up and strokes my cheek.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He whispers. "It's okay."

I blink back more tears. "No, it isn't okay. I-I miss my m-mom and everything's so depressing b-because my room at home is exactly like t-this." I've started to hiccup furiously. Jace leaves my side and rustles around in my closet. He finally emerges with a clear crystal glass. I have no idea where it came from because my family doesn't own those kinds of glasses. In less than ten seconds, Jace has brought me water filled to the brim in the glass.

I think that they put the glasses there so I could have water anytime. But what about food? Is it always going to be like this, him bringing me meals at a certain time? Because I think I'll starve doing that every day.

I chug the water down and wipe my mouth. The hiccupping has stopped, but there is still a big fat lump in my throat. I swallow, thinking stupidly that if I do that, it will go away. Nope. It's still daring me to cry again. But I won't. I've showed off how weak I am already. I won't let Jace manipulate me, not ever.

"I think we're done here." I mumble, just barely audible.

"What?"

"I mean, I want you to leave. Just go, Jace. I don't need you to stay here a single minute more." I shake my head sadly.

For a second, I see - _is that guilt?_ Flash in Jace's eyes. "Fine." He says, emotionless. "I'll be back to give you some lunch." He shuffles out slowly and closes the door. I hear the click of the lock seconds later.

When I walk to Isabelle's room, I find that the door is locked from the other side. I precariously knock and wait for a response.

The door swings open and Isabelle smiles at me. Unable to help it, I crack a slight smile because Isabelle's smile is so bright and I don't want myself to look so...cried out.

"Hi," She says. "Did Jace leave?"

I nod. "Yeah, he did. At least I got food."

"Jace is rude. Snarky. Arrogant. Cocky. All the synonyms in the dictionary. Anyways, want to come into my room?"

Laughing, I enter her room as she prods the back of my neck gently. "You don't even know my name."

"You're Clary. Clary Fray. And you're my mother's friend's daughter." She states informatively, her eyes wide and childish-seeming.

I stare at her, dumbfounded. "How, whose daughter are you?" I choke out. Could this be the Isabelle my mother was telling me about?

"I'm Maryse Lightwood's daughter, Isabelle. Your mom's name is Jocelyn Fray. I know. I've met her once. I was little, though. Almost five. I think you were there, too."

A memory flashes from the backs of my eyelids. Me meeting a dark-haired woman with a forever lost expression on her face. Her daughter was so bubbly and full of energy, though. It was a direct contrast. That time, I was only four. Fourteen years have passed, and now here we are standing in front of each other.

It may seem strange, even to her, but I slowly hug Isabelle. "God, Izzy, it's been years." I whisper. Isabelle is holding onto me as tightly as I am holding onto her.

"I always asked Mom if I could meet you again, but she said I couldn't because we both had school."

A dry laugh somehow manages to squeeze its way out of my vocal cords. "Now we don't."

Isabelle laughs, too, but just as mine did a few minutes ago with Jace, her laughing turns into soft sobs that remind me of a helpless kitten stuck in a box.

"I don't want to have this baby," She says quietly. How has she managed to stop crying already?! "I never did."

"I cried so hard when the pregnancy test came out positive," She continues. "I wouldn't talk to Simon for three whole days. Then he finally let me call home. That was last month. Mom didn't understand that the phone call was just that once. She told me that she would call on that number, but she never did. I guess the phone lines are blocked."

"What does Simon look like, anyways?" I ask, and just then, the door bursts open. I nearly scream, and my heart beats at ten times faster the pace than it usually does.

"Sorry, I'm late, Iz," A boy says. He has light brown hair and goofy glasses hanging loose on his face. He doesn't seem as bad as Jace does. "Oh! Who's this?"

Isabelle is about to open her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. "I'm Clarissa Fray. Call me Clary."

The boy's expression eases into a relaxed smile. "I'm Simon Lewis, key master."

I giggle. "Dungeons and Dragons?" I ask him teasingly.

"Yep."

Simon hands Isabelle a plate identical to mine, except under the foil, there is tons of food, much more than what I got. I have to talk to Jace about food the next time I see him. But I don't want to see him again, that's just the big problem. Maybe I could hide in Isabelle's bathroom forever. That seems like a good idea.

"Hey, who's assigned to you?" Simon asks curiously. "If you're in the other room, then that means that...Jace?!" He yells incredulously.

"Yep."

Simon shakes his head disapprovingly, as if he knows how much of a jackass Jace is, and then flops onto Isabelle's bed. Isabelle is nibbling on the edge of a slice of toast, lost in thought, and she sees me staring at her. Her eyebrows raise and she breaks off a portion of toast and gestures for me to take it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Simon interrupts. "Isabelle, you need to eat that."

Isabelle glares at him. "I am going to get fat eating all of this crap and not burning the calories instantly. Let her have it. I'm sure Jace very _generously _brought her an omelet. Motherfucker needs to read health books."

Simon sighs in defeat and slumps back down. "Fine, but not every day."

His previous words make me confused. "Hey, what were you saying about the other room and Jace?"

"Um, I was talking about how before you got here, which was like, a few days ago, Jace slept in there because it was his week."

"Week?" I press on.

Simon pushes his glasses up his slim nose with his equally-slim fingers. "One week I sleep in here with Isabelle. I mean literal sleep, curled up on the bed. The other week Jace sleeps here, usually alone, but you're here now. So this week is my week. Next week it's Jace's turn."

My stomach drops. "I can just kick him out, right? Or make him sleep on the floor?" I rapidly throw questions at Simon.

Isabelle interferes. "It's required to sleep with him every night of the week. You have to, how can I say this in non-sexual words? Cuddle, yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. Cuddle. They say that it boosts happiness, although all it's done for me is multiple fights with Simon over falling asleep on his arm and making it numb."

Just when I thought it couldn't go down farther, my stomach drops lower. Jesus. I'm supposed to _cuddle _with the dude that _raped _me? Fucking cuddle? This is a torture chamber with a soft bed and all the facilities in the world. "But, but I don't want to."

Simon snorts. "You don't get a choice. Otherwise, we have the right to tie you to the bed. That rarely happens, though." He tells me reassuringly.

I gulp. This is slowly twisting into a messed-up Fifty Shades of Grey dream...er, reality.

Now, I'm even less pleased about Jace coming into my room. Oh, Mom, when the hell are you getting me out of here?

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><p><strong>How is it? Did you like it? Too angsty? Sweet?<strong>

**Longest chapter EVERRR.**

**The idiotic Jace displayed in this chapter made me facepalm like, infinite times. Oh, well. More Clace next chapter. **

**I got so many reviews! (gives virtual hug to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed) 45 reviews for three chapters comes to an average of 15 reviews per chapter. I love you so much, readers. **

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to okayitswayland for betaing this for me. You're a wonderful writer and editor. **

**Review or some shit, guys?**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When I get back to my room, I open my closet and dig around in it for a while. I find some new things, such as an entire shelf of glasses hidden in a pretty case, a magic wand, and an entryway to Disneyland.

Kinda exaggerating about the last two, if you hadn't guessed before. Well, the only thing new to me is the case full of glasses. Wait, but when do I, like, _wash _them? Just in the sink?

"Hm," I say out loud to myself, eyeing the clock. It says 11:36. Taking in account the fact that Jace gave me breakfast an hour and a half or so ago, I assume that he'll be back in another hour. I'm already hungry, though. That omelet wasn't enough to be considered food.

Staring at the bed in a repulsive way, I jump on and start making it neat, pulling the corners into place and smoothing them out. What am I going to do about next week? Simon seemed to be truthful when he said that I have to 'cuddle' with Jace for the entirety of the next 7 days once our turn comes. I think I'll refuse the first time he asks. I'll punch him. Maybe that'll show him that I'm not weak.

Once the bed is made, I grab a book from the mini bookcase that's so old I can barely remember the day I got it. The book I've chosen is one that I bought and started reading. I was going to finish it when I got home the day that the unspeakable happened.

As I flip open the book to the page my bookmark is on, I see that the bookmark is my school picture from first grade, and on the back, a specially added-in message from her mother.

_Sweetheart_, It says, _No matter what chapter of your life you're on, no matter what page, just remember to keep the bookmark with you, and Mommy's love will be given to you through it. _

I swallow, knowing that there are thick, painful tears tugging at the corners of my eyes. I blink them back and use my hand to wipe away the ones that come out. Then, I walk to the closet and bury the bookmark at the very back, nearly digging it into the soft carpet. I hope I never have to see that thing again. It brings back bittersweet memories.

Once I get into a comfortable position in my reclining couch, I start reading from where I'd left off. Oh, right. The woman was dying, and her husband was trying not to cry. Three minutes pass and I've read three pages already. I keep biting my lip over and over so I won't start sniveling along with the husband, but in the end, I do anyway.

The husband starts sobbing over the body, and by the time I've reached the next chapter, there's a funeral scene and the husband is begging all his family and his in-laws that she isn't dead, that she's just sleeping, but he's realized that she's not coming back. His denial slowly turns into anger. He begins pounding on the coffin, and screaming at her to come back.

Suddenly, three quick raps on the door pull me back into reality, and I flip closed the book hurriedly, doing my best to look as if I haven't just been reading something sad. The door opens, and Jace gets in, locking the door. He smiles.

But then his eyes narrow. "Why are your eyes so red? And your nose so puffy?"

I make a half-hearted attempt at a joke, and say, "All the better to spread germs with."

He doesn't laugh. In fact, his face is so cold that I swear, I feel the chill. "You didn't have a cold an hour ago." He tells me.

"Well..." I trail off, knowing that I'll just have to tell him about the book. "Sometimes, when a person reads a sad scene, they start crying, and then they try to joke it off."

Jace nearly chokes with laughter.

"Hey!" I scowl, heat creeping up my cheeks. "Not fair at all. Book nerds don't have control over their emotions."

He looks up at me and holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait a minute. "You-cry over books? Fucking hilarious. I'd like to see that sometime."

"Don't. You. _Dare. _Insult. Me."

Finally stopping, Jace sets a smirk on his face, and shows me why he came here. There's a very large plate of food in his hands. My stomach grumbles.

"This is for you," He gives it to me, and I flop back onto my butterfly chair, ripping off the foil vengefully.

I glare at him. "Thank you," I spit.

"You're very welcome, Clarissa," He answers.

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what? Your name? Would you prefer sweet cheeks, perhaps? Or maybe honey buns?"

I growl and stand up, abandoning the half-unwrapped plate. Then I swat him in the shoulder.

"OW!" He yells. "What in the fuck was that for?"

"Oh, you know that didn't hurt."

The annoying smirk is back again. "Yes, I do."

"And call me Clary, just so you know. Not even a syllable of those two horrifying nicknames should be uttered," I say, this time completely unwrapping the plate. There is so much more to eat than last time, including salad, a chicken sandwich with grilled (ugh) chicken, and six apple slices.

Jace lays back onto the bed. "Fine, fine. Now eat."

"Why isn't there junk food?"

"What?"

I roll my eyes. "Junk food, idiot. A candy bar, say, or a bag of chips, or soda."

"You...don't get that here," He says.

I deadpan. "No way in hell. How am I going to live without it?"

He doesn't answer.

Taking this as an opportunity to rant, I tear into the chicken sandwich and chew furiously. "What about coffee?" I say when I've swallowed my bite.

Jace sits up leans against the wall, stretching his feet out further in front of him. "Let's go over some things. In Idris, you don't get coffee, or chocolate, or chips, or...soda. I've never actually tasted soda. Hm."

"And, also," I proceed after finishing another bite. "Am I supposed to drink only water for the rest of my life? What about dairy products? Or juice?"

He perks up a little, but then his pupils go big, and he throws himself off the bed and runs for the door. "I forgot the bottle of vegetable juice. Be right back."

I nearly gag once he's gone. Vegetable juice? Disgusting!

In about three minutes, Jace is back, his face slightly flushed. I can tell he's just ran up and down stairs. In his hands he has a bottle of reddish liquid.

I gag again."Do you expect me to drink that?"

"Well, duh."

"I can't do that," I bite on the inside of my cheek. "I'm allergic. To tomatoes."

He raises an eyebrow. "There's tomato in that sandwich. Don't lie to me, Clary. I know everything about you, down to what kind of bra you wear. From the files."

My mouth forms an 'o' shape. Okay, he's gone too far. "But I don't feel like drinking the juice," I mumble, fiddling with my hands.

He chuckles. "You don't get to choose what you eat. They do that for you."

"I-I'm full," I lie, hoping he'll believe it.

"Well, you still have to finish everything that's been given to you. Rules are rules."

"And I didn't sign up for them," I retort.

Jace's face twists into a dark one. "Clary, you have to finish every fucking item of food on that plate, including the tiniest morsel. If my boss finds out that you're not eating enough, I'll be fired, and surely something worse will happen to you."

A new pit forms in my stomach when he says this. What might happen? It couldn't be worse than this, could it?

I uncap the bottle slowly and put it to my lips, taking a reluctant sip. It tastes like crap, not an ounce of extra salt added to it. I cough and fight a gag, immediately repulsed, and close the bottle, shoving it into Jace's hands.

He sighs exasperatedly. "Just because it doesn't taste good doesn't mean you don't have to drink it." He says, tossing back the bottle once again.

I groan before picking it up from where it falls on the ground. "But _why_?"

"Because I said so."

I wrinkle my nose in distaste after I've gulped some more down and then stare Jace down. "What did _you_ have for lunch?"

"Oh, you know-just a cheeseburger. And a can of beer," He shrugs.

"You're lying. I can tell."

He smirks. Again. "Look who's observant," He walks to my desk curiously as I try to get the juice down my throat. Then, he fiddles around with my paperweights and lifts one into his hands, beginning to toss it around.

Apparently, the one he's taken is my favorite. Gulping the remains of the juice, I storm over to him furiously and snatch my paperweight out of his hands.

In the end, I'm so pissed off that I pick up the sandwich and stomp away to Isabelle's room. Jace laughs, and calls after me. "You'd bettemr finish that!" Then the door closes, and once I'm in Isabelle's room, I shriek angrily, almost throwing the paperweight.

Isabelle jumps up, and only then do I realize that the left side of her face is black and blue.

* * *

><p><strong>So...yeah. <strong>

**Don't hurt me, guys, I'm sorry, I'm trying to write five books at a time, plus two fanfiction accounts, so I'm a busy gal.**

**This chapter was boring. I'm sorry. But the next chapter will be better. ****For a review...Yes, I made a mistake, but it hurt my feelings the way you worded it. It's fine, I am not that hurt. And also...to the random guest (guys, I can't reply if you're not a member) you really motivated me to get this chapter out!**

**le spoiler for next time...cough...period...cough...again...cough...more...cough...smut...cough. Damn, that sounded weird in my head! XD**


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